


Cover Me

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Ellison takes a job at Conover Psychiatric Hospital after his retirement from the Cascade PD due to his runaway senses and injuries suffered during a shootout. At Conover, he meets an unusual and interesting patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Me

Thanks to my beta readers for their help with this story. This story was first published in Whispers of the Heart IX by Angel Wings Press.

* * *

The times are tough now, just getting tougher  
This old world is rough, it's just getting rougher  
Cover me, come on baby, cover me  
Well I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me  
Promise me baby you won't let them find us  
Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us  
Cover me, shut the door and cover me  
Well I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me  
Outside's the rain, the driving snow  
I can hear the wild wind blowing  
Turn out the light, bolt the door  
I ain't going out there no more  
This whole world is out there just trying to score  
I've seen enough, I don't want to see any more,  
Cover me, come on and cover me  
I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me  
Looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me  
 _\---bruce springsteen---_

* * *

"Dr. Anderson will see you now, Mr. Ellison." The heavy-set woman smiled and motioned for Jim to follow. "This way, please." 

Jim rose, straightened his tie and cleared his throat. He followed the friendly receptionist through the wooden door and stood a bit hesitantly until she closed it behind him. He shrugged off his nervousness and looked directly at the brown-haired man sitting behind the desk. 

"Take a seat. I'll be right with you." Dr. Anderson's pen flew across the page. He made a few more notes before he clicked it closed and leaned back, tapping the pen on the desk. "So tell me, Mr. -- ah --" He flipped up a page of the yellow pad. " -- Ellison." 

"Jim Ellison." 

"Right. Why do you want to work at Conover, Mr. Ellison? May I call you 'Jim'?" 

Jim shifted and tried to ignore the annoyingly loud tap-tap-tap of the plastic pen against the glass-covered desk. 

"Jim is fine, sir." He cleared his throat again. "I think I'd be an asset to the facility, Dr. Anderson. I had experience as a medic when I was in the service. My years as a police officer..." 

"That's what has me the most, let's say, curious, about why you want to work with us. I've read your resume. I spoke with your former captain. He spoke very highly of you and reassured me several times that your separation from the Cascade Police Department had absolutely nothing to do with your character or work performance." 

"That's correct, sir. I took early retirement because of an on-the-job injury as I've explained in my resume. My physical condition won't interfere with my performance on the job here. You may speak to my physician if you like. His name and telephone number are listed, also." 

"Yes, yes, yes." Anderson waved a hand. "I've spoken to him already. He didn't go into a lot of detail - doctor/patient confidentiality, which I fully understand - but he also assured me that you would be an asset to our group." Anderson leaned back and stopped the drumming of the pen against the desk, much to Jim's relief. "I want to be frank with you, Mr. Ellison." 

"Please do, sir." 

"You seem like a hard man to me. Your background of military and law enforcement is commendable, but it isn't what we need at Conover. We need a combination of strength, both mental and physical, tempered with caring and compassion. I don't tolerate violence or abuse of any kind in my facility." 

"I understand, sir, but I do think..." 

Anderson held up a hand. "Let me finish before you feel the need to defend yourself, Jim. I've decided to hire you on a sixty-day trial basis. You won't get the best shifts at first and you'll be on call for shifts when other orderlies call in sick. Also, if you are interested, there's a sign-up sheet in the employee lounge for anyone who wants to work extra shifts to cover employees who are off on vacation. That would mean extra money in overtime." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"I run a tight ship, Jim. But my door is always open for any problems or concerns. The patients here are mentally ill. They need our help, not our animosity or anger. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good." Anderson rose. "One more thing. I will not tolerate any physical or sexual abuse of any patient. If you see or hear anything, you are to report to me immediately. Even if you do not participate in any of these activities, if I find out you had knowledge of any abuse and that you didn't come to me, you will be dismissed immediately. If you understand these rules, then consider yourself hired." 

Jim rose and held out his hand. "Thank you, Doctor. When would you like me to start?" 

Anderson shook Jim's hand, then he pulled out a clipboard from a small pile and after a quick glance, he said, "Midnight to 9 a.m., starting tonight. If you have a car, you may park in the employee parking area on the northeast side of the building. Here's a handbook of the ins and outs of our facility along with requirements for your uniform. There are whites available on the second floor in the small room off the employee lounge, or you may provide your own. Stop by and have Mrs. Graham take your picture for your ID. It will be ready for you when you report in tonight. She'll issue you a key card also." 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." 

"Punctuality, Jim. Another of my requirements." 

"Of course, Doctor. Good day." 

"Good day. And welcome aboard." 

* * *

Jim liked the night shift; it was relatively quiet. The more rambunctious patients were given mild medication to help them sleep, and their doors were locked to prevent wandering. Dr. Anderson didn't believe in medicating patients into oblivion unless the patient was under extreme duress. He relied on the orderlies to keep the floor calm and quiet. 

On each floor, a small sitting room was kept open for patients who were quiet, but unable to sleep. Patients allowed this special privilege had proven themselves able to abide by the rules and regulations of the facility. A list of these patients was posted on the employee bulletin board and on Jim's usual floor, number three, five patients were allowed unfettered access to the sitting room. The TV was always on and kept low so as not to disturb the rest of the floor. 

Jim was quiet, but the patients soon realized he was the strong, silent type. He was kind but firm, and the patients learned not to push too hard. Jim used his intelligence and patience to manage the unruly ones, and he soon developed a nighttime routine that worked for his floor. By the end of his first two weeks, several of the women had developed crushes on him, along with one or two of the men. Jim was steadfast in his rejection of their advances, though not cruel. They all seemed to be happy admiring his well-toned body from afar. 

* * *

It was a cold, rainy night when Jim punched in at 11:55 p.m. 

"Yo, Jimmy." 

Jim turned to see one of the orderlies, Nelson Smith, leaning against the door frame. He watched while Jim filled out his time card. "'Evening, Smith. Please don't call me 'Jimmy'. Jim or Ellison works better for me." 

"Sure, Jimmy. Anything you say. By the way, Doctor Burns just sent me to tell you that you need to cover the second floor tonight with Rawlins and Valetti." 

"Why's that?" 

Nelson shrugged. "The flu. Three guys are out." 

"Okay. Let me go up and say 'good-night' to my people." 

Nelson shrugged again. "Sure, whatever. You spoil these old kooks." 

Jim gave Nelson a cold glare. "A little kindness goes a long way, Smith." 

"Yeah, sure. I'm out of here. Good night." 

"Good night." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever after-shave Smith had bathed in made his head ache. He sighed and after a glance at the list of patients allowed access to the second floor sitting room, he made a quick trip to the third floor to bid his usual patients goodnight. 

* * *

The second floor TV room was quiet. Only two people were occupying the room that night. One, a woman, was on one end of the sofa, engrossed in a cooking program. The other patient caught Jim's attention immediately. 

The person had long, curly hair that cascaded down the shoulders in shiny waves. Jim admired the beautiful reddish-brown color, surprised at the cleanliness and neatness of the hair. Most patients would have had trouble keeping such a full head in good condition. Jim walked around the side of the sofa and his breath caught in his throat. 

The beautiful head of hair belonged to a young man. His face was strong and attractive, and a five-o'clock shadow dusted his chin. He sat on the sofa with his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin on his knee. His bright blue eyes were focused on the television and he ignored Jim's presence. 

Jim spoke to the woman, asking her name. She didn't look up, but acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. 

"Madeline Arthur." She never looked away from the TV, but then waved the hand in her companion's direction. "Blair Sandburg. He doesn't talk, but he's a good guy." 

"Thanks, Madeline. I'm Jim." 

"Shhh. This is my favorite part." 

"Okay." He chuckled softly. "Enjoy the program." Jim crouched down next to Blair's elbow. "Hey, Buddy. How you doing?" 

Jim's nose picked up the clean fragrance of vanilla and the underlying scent of the man. He was shocked when he felt his body respond. He rose quickly, feeling his heart rate accelerate and his face flush. He swallowed and stepped back, confused. He never allowed his senses to respond to outside stimuli and he was a bit afraid at his small loss of control. Even a fraction of a second out of control was unacceptable, he bitterly reminded himself. With a last glance at the pair, he left to check on the other patients on the floor. 

* * *

Jim found himself permanently rescheduled to the second floor two nights later. One of the orderlies had quit and another was out on medical leave for a few months because he required knee surgery. Jim accepted his new assignment stoically. He hoped that the unsettling incident with the patient from the earlier night was a freak incident, but he was taking no chances. He gave himself a stern talking-to before his shift began. He started his work night confidently--until he walked into the second floor sitting room. 

There were three people in the room that evening. Madeline was at her place on the far right of the sofa. Blair was at his place on the far left, and another man paced behind the sofa. 

"Hello," Jim said. "How is everyone this evening?" 

Madeline flashed Jim a quick smile. "Hey, I remember you! You're Jim!" 

"Yes. You have a good memory." 

"It's one of the few things that I do have left that works," Madeline said with a laugh. "That's Blair. Oh, wait. He was here the other night." Madeline fiddled with the remote. "Shit. No 'Cooking with Renaldo' tonight. Oh well." Madeline looked over the back of the sofa. "Bennie? Want to watch that science fiction channel?" 

Bennie's head bobbed excitedly and he quickly found a seat. 

"Blair? You okay with sci-fi?" 

Blair remained still and silent, sitting in his usual position. Knees up, arms wrapped around his legs, chin on knees. His eyes were glued to the television. 

"Okay, 'Attack of the Mutant Spiders' it is, fellas," Madeline said. 

Jim smiled and walked over to lean on the back of the sofa. There was a strange smell in the room. It was sweet and cloying to Jim's sensitive nose. He disliked the smell immediately. When Bennie reached in his pocket and pulled out a small metallic packet, Jim watched the man closely. Bennie carefully removed a rubber band from the pack, unrolled the top and gently shook out a tiny, black square. The scent of the candy was even stronger when Bennie popped it into his mouth, making Jim almost gag. Bennie grinned up at Jim, allowing the unappealing aroma to waft out of his mouth. Seeing Jim watching him, Bennie giggled and held out the small packet in Jim's direction. Jim could see the name of the offensive treat clearly, Sen-Sen. Remembering it from his childhood days, and surprised that the confection was still being manufactured, Jim shook his head. 

"Thanks, but no thanks, Bennie," Jim said. 

Madeline chatted while the commercial played. Bennie rocked in his seat and waited impatiently for the beginning of the movie. Blair never moved. 

Jim glanced down at Blair and suddenly he felt a wave of distress wash over him. He felt hot and the best explanation he could come up with was that he 'felt' unhappy. His stomach rolled and his face started to sweat. He stepped back, wiping his hands down his face. 

"You okay, Jim?" Madeline asked. 

"Yeah, fine." Jim tamped down the unsettling feelings quickly and after a few moments, they abated. He walked from around the back of the sofa to the side and stared down at the top of the curly head. "What's that you have, Chief?" he asked softly, noticing for the first time the item securely held between Blair's chest and legs. Jim focused intently and his eyesight involuntarily zoomed in. He saw the large packet wrapped in plastic and his eyes told him it was a book. His nose picked up on the scent of mold and decay. An old book, he knew. He pulled back, startled that he had used his senses, and abruptly turned. He walked to the door. "You people behave yourselves." 

The movie had started and other than a wave of a hand from Madeline, Jim's departure was ignored, or so he thought. Jim failed to notice that he was being scrutinized when his back was turned. 

The rest of the night passed by quietly, giving Jim lots of time to think about his reactions to Sandburg's presence. He sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He wondered how much he wanted to know and if he would or should talk to Anderson about Sandburg's condition and reason for confinement. He walked the floor quietly, checking doors and patients, wondering why in hell he even bothered to wonder about one patient anyway. He dismissed the idea of discovering more about the strange, silent man, and berated himself for his curiosity. 

* * *

"Give me the damn thing!" 

Jim heard the shout from the other side of the hallway. He cocked his head, his hearing kicking in. He recognized the voice of one of the more unruly patients. 

"Let go of it!" Another voice. One of the first guy's cohorts, Jim knew. 

Jim heard the slap of skin against skin. He took off at a run toward the noise while he focused. He heard the wild thumping of a heart and heaving breaths. Someone was frightened. Jim raced to the second floor men's room and shoved the door open. A quick glance told him the stalls were unoccupied. He ran to the showers located at the back. Jim took in the scene immediately. Two men held Blair Sandburg between them. The biggest man had one hand around Blair's throat and another around a wrist that was pinned to the wall. The second man held his other wrist against the wall and had a fist clamped in his hair. A third man was laughing while he tore at something he held in his hands. The showers were off and the men were dressed so the assailants must have attacked when Blair had come in to use the restroom. Jim was relieved that it didn't appear to be a sexual assault. 

"Stop!" Jim yelled, making all three men jump. 

The third man dropped what he held and threw up his hands, grinning. "Oh, hey. We're just having a little fun." 

Jim strode forward. "Let him go!" he ordered, his voice quiet but deadly. 

The two men holding Blair hesitated briefly. 

"Now!" Jim ordered. 

They released their hold. Blair slid to the floor with a quiet thump, holding his neck and rubbing his head. Jim tamped down his first instinct to race to Blair's side. He never took his eyes from the three attackers. 

"Go to your rooms immediately. All privileges are revoked and you are all on report." Jim glared at each man in turn. The biggest guy almost protested, but something in the cold gaze made him swallow and nod. 

The man who was closest to Jim, the one who had dropped what he had taken from Blair, moved first. He slipped past Jim with his head down and left quickly. The man to Blair's right smirked, but remained silent. He followed his cohort out of the bathroom. The third man gave Blair an angry look before he sauntered past Jim. On his way out, Jim heard the man mutter, "Fuck you." Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. He waited until the three had left before he finally turned to Blair. 

Jim crossed the space between them quickly and dropped to one knee. "Are you okay, Chief?" Jim reached out a hand but he pulled back when he saw Blair noticeably flinch. "I just want to help you up. Is that all right?" 

Blair didn't raise his face, but Jim was sure he saw a small nod. When he put a hand under Blair's elbow, the man didn't flinch again, so Jim helped him to his feet, keeping his contact to a minimum. Blair stood leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed and his fists clenched while he struggled to regain control of his breathing. Jim could see the bruises on his neck and the imprint of a hand on his cheek. 

"Let's get you to the infirmary," Jim said. 

A small shake of Blair's head was the response to Jim's suggestion. 

"You're hurt. Besides, this has got to be written down in an assault report. I want you checked out." 

Again the small shake. 

"Listen here. If this isn't reported and handled according to the rules, I could lose my job. I can't afford to do that. Besides, I just want to make sure you're okay." 

After a long minute, Blair finally shrugged. Jim smiled. He slowly reached out and took Blair's elbow. With a gentle tug, he started to guide Blair from the shower. Suddenly, Blair planted his feet. 

"Come on, Chief. Don't fight me on this." 

It happened quickly. Blair lifted his face for a brief moment. His hair fell away from his eyes and with just a quick glance, he actually looked at Jim before his eyes slid away. Jim held his breath when the sapphire blue eyes met his. Without thinking, he released Blair's elbow. Blair skittered away quickly and fell to his knees. That was when Jim realized what he wanted. The book that Blair always had clutched in his arms was what the assailants had been determined to take from him. Now he reached out with both hands and reverently picked it up. He used his sleeve to tenderly wipe the cover before hugging it close to his body. 

Jim looked around and found the remains of the plastic that had been wrapped around the precious object. He leaned down and held it out to Blair, who took it with shaking fingers and clutched it to his chest. Again, he briefly raised his head and their eyes met. Jim felt a jolt of energy course through his body. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up and his heart beat double time for a brief moment. He rose, shaky for a second. The feeling passed as quickly as it had arrived. Jim shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a hand under Blair's elbow, he encouraged him to rise. 

Blair stood very still, almost hyperventilating. A strange sensation made his head pound and his body tremble. His breath came in short pants and his heart raced. 

"Take it easy. Nice, deep breaths." Jim could see Blair's knuckles turning white from his desperate hold on his precious book. "Is the book okay? It doesn't look damaged, Chief. Looks like they only managed to tear off the plastic covering," Jim said softly. He waited patiently for a few moments to give Blair a chance to compose himself. When Blair remained frozen in place, Jim asked quietly, "Are you okay? What's wrong?" After another slight shake of Blair's head, Jim finally had enough. He moved behind Blair and with a hand under each elbow, he firmly guided the man from the bathroom and down to the infirmary. 

* * *

"What happened?" the duty nurse asked. 

"Three patients jumped him. He has some bruising on his throat and face. I'd feel a lot better if you'd give him a good exam and make sure he's okay." 

"Of course," the woman said. "He's been here before. I'm afraid he's an easy target for some of the rougher patients." With am arm around Blair's waist, she spoke softly, "Come on, Mr. Sandburg. Let's take a look." 

Blair didn't protest but allowed the woman to lead him away. Jim watched closely until he saw the nurse sit Blair down on one of the chairs and start to check him over. When Jim was sure Blair was being cooperative, he turned and pulled the door open. Just before the door closed, he happened to glance back. Two incredibly blue eyes were watching him. The corner of Jim's mouth curled and he waved goodbye. Blair's eyes slid away quickly. Jim smiled. They'd made contact. For some reason, he felt drawn to the solemn man. Jim shook his head, puzzled at his actions, and went to file his report about the assault incident. 

* * *

It was about midmorning when Jim left himself into the loft. Fatigued after the draining night, he tossed his keys into the basket next to the door and peeled off his jacket. He tiredly sighed. Jacket hung and microwave dinner started, he went to shower. He enjoyed the warmth of the hot water pounding the back of his neck and shoulders while he shampooed his short hair. Turning, he savored the water's massage on his chest and stomach. Pulling the hand-held shower head from its holder, he traveled over his body with the hard spray, under his arms and across his chest, making his nipples harden at the contact. He groaned and moved the spray down his belly to his groin. The fingers of water caressed his body. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. The image of long, dark curls and big blue eyes danced through his thoughts. He sucked in his breath, hardening rapidly. With his other hand, he found his thickening erection and stroked. Jim allowed his mind to conjure up images of a slim, sturdy body next to his. His hand changed into another's. A familiar scent was retrieved from the recesses of his mind. An unfamiliar voice whispered into his ear. His body responded rapidly. A few more strokes and he came with a name on his lips, "Blair!" 

Jim leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily before he stood, shocked. He turned off the water and dried quickly, donning clean sweats for sleeping. What the fuck was that? He was having fantasies about a patient? What the hell was wrong with him? He fiercely bit his lip, shaking his head. His first reaction was indignation. He'd been attracted to very few men in his life and even then he'd never acted on those attractions. His father had made sure Jim's every action was as 'normal' as possible. As a child, he knew he was different. Even his father's uncaring eye had seen those differences. After drumming into the child's head lessons of avoiding being considered a freak or otherwise a promise of a life of being ostracized, Jim quickly learned to hide his gifts. Then he repressed them as much as possible, keeping a tight control over his senses at all times. 

It was only since he met the strange patient at Conover that he had begun to again have trouble controlling his senses. The last time he had suffered from a lack of control had cost him his job with the Cascade PD. Jim thought he was over that hurdle and had conquered those problems, but apparently, the senses had been dormant and were now resurfacing. He was not at all happy. 

On top of the recurring problem with his senses, he was displeased with his actions. He was attracted to a man. He had jerked off with images of that man in his head. He felt his senses come to life around that man. He wanted to be with him; to protect him and -- to love him? Oh, God! Jim raced out to the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he took two hard pulls quickly. Leaning on the edge of the counter, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Frightened at his own thoughts, Jim set the bottle down with a thump, droplets spraying the clean surface. Thoughts of eating and sleeping now gone, he pulled on his running shoes and raced out into the cool, clear morning, determined to jog at least five miles. He would exercise all thoughts of Blair Sandburg right out of his body and his mind. 

* * *

Jim felt eyes watching him but every time he turned, nobody was there. He was uneasy for a brief moment, wondering if there was going to be trouble from the inmates that he had filed the report on the week before. They were on room restriction and unhappy about it. Very carefully, he opened his senses. He heard the sound of a heart beating and smelled the fragrance that he was now familiar with. Now he knew that Blair was surreptitiously watching him. He briefly wondered why but dismissed the thought. Probably an infatuation because he'd saved the guy from a beating. Jim ignored Blair and went about his duties. 

A few nights later, when he entered the second floor sitting room, he surprised himself by immediately centering his senses on the long haired man sitting on the sofa. The scent of the man's freshly washed hair tickled Jim's nasal passages, while his heartbeat calmed his senses immediately. Jim allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the feelings before he tamped them down. 

"Evening, folks," Jim called to the room's three occupants. 

Madeline smiled. "Hello, Jim." 

Bennie Jones, the second occupant, gave Jim a sideways glance and waved quickly before he lowered his head and giggled. The usual smell of licorice was like a cloud around his head that Jim could almost see. Hating the smell, Jim breathed through his mouth. 

Blair didn't acknowledge Jim's presence, but when Jim moved close to the back of the sofa, he heard Blair's heart rate speed up and his respiration increase. Puzzled, Jim moved from behind the sofa to the side and sat on the arm closest to Blair. He wondered what had caused the man to be anxious. 

"Everybody having a good evening?" 

"Shhh, commercial's over," Madeline muttered, waving a hand at Jim. 

Jim chuckled. "Sorry. I almost forgot. It's time for your favorite program." 

"How about you fellas? You like this Renaldo guy as much as Miss Madeline here?" 

Bennie giggled and shook his head. Blair remained silent. When Jim looked down at Blair from his perch on the arm of the sofa, he fully expected to see the usual head bent and hugging his book. Blair surprised him by tipping his head just slightly so that he could look up at Jim from the corner of his eye. When their eyes met, Blair's quickly slid away. His respiration rose higher and his heart thumped. 

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked quietly. 

Jim watched the quiet man closely. He almost fell off the arm of the chair when the curly head nodded. It was only one nod, but it was something. He smiled. 

"Good." Jim glanced into Blair's lap where he hugged his precious book to his chest. "Oh, I see you got some new plastic for your book. That's good, Sandburg. It must be pretty valuable for you to take such good care of it." 

Again, Jim watched carefully. He was rewarded with another quick nod. Jim rose and smiled. He figured he'd better not press his luck so he said, "I'll be back in a while. I expect you all to behave yourselves." Jim walked over to the open door. He glanced back quickly, not at all surprised to find the wide blue eyes watching him. He waggled his fingers at Blair, who quickly turned his head away. 

* * *

Jim was working an extra shift on the Fourth of July weekend when it happened. He woke in the hospital infirmary, disoriented for a moment, before he groaned at his pounding head and started to rise. 

"Relax, Jim." 

A hand helped him sit up and he finally focused on Paul, the second shift nurse on duty that night. 

"What happened?" Jim muttered, rubbing his forehead. 

"That's what I'd like to know. What do you remember?" 

Jim considered for a moment. "I was outside watching the fireworks with some of the patients. I remember making sure everybody was okay. Then I remember admiring the colors of the fireworks. I was watching them when I..." Jim shrugged. "Did I pass out or what?" 

"I'm not sure," Paul said. "I've called Dr. Miller. He's on call tonight. He'll be here in a sec to check you out." 

Jim shook his head and rose. "No. No doctor. I'm fine." That was when Jim happened to catch a glimpse of someone from the corner of his eye. Blair Sandburg sat across the room in one of the chairs, his precious book open on his lap. Jim could see that he was studying him intently. Jim smiled at Paul. "Really, Paul. I'm fine. I skipped lunch and dinner so I think my blood sugar was low. Sorry for scaring you." 

"Well," Paul said uncertainly, "if you're sure... But I still think you should let the doc give you a once over. You weren't unconscious, Jim. It was more like -- a trance." At his own words, Paul laughed. "Yeah, you're probably right. Go and have something to eat and be sure to drink a couple of glasses of water or juice." 

"Okay. Thank you. Good night." 

Jim made his way down to the employee lounge. He didn't need to turn around to know that when he had left the infirmary, Blair had followed. He resisted the urge to stop and say something, but kept walking. When he slid his key card through the slot allowing him access to the lounge, he used his hearing lightly. Blair hovered around the corner of the hallway. Jim smiled. With a hand on the door, he dropped his card so that he had to lean down to pick it up. When he did, he glanced back and saw the dark head peering around the corner at him. Rising, Jim said, "It's almost midnight, Sandburg. You're going to miss your television program." 

Jim heard the sharp inhalation of breath and the footsteps beating a hasty retreat. He rolled his eyes, wondering once again what he should do about Blair. Knowing he couldn't solve the Sandburg problem that night, Jim turned his thoughts to the present occurrence. He knew that he hadn't fainted because of hunger and that he had had these types of episodes previously. The last time he had lost control had cost him his job with the Cascade Police Department. Painful memories of the episode resurfaced. Jim sighed, remembering the two bullets he had taken when he interrupted a convenience store robbery. During his recuperation, he made the decision to retire from the force because of his failure to control his senses properly and his fear that some innocent person might be harmed due to his inability to perform his job safely. 

Jim went to his locker and pulled out a thermos and paper sack. Sitting down at the small table, he poured himself a cup of coffee and opened his sandwich. He added two packets of sugar to the coffee for energy. While he ate, he thought about what had happened. He knew that the "trance" only happened when he was using his senses, but he had no clue as to why they happened. Putting the episode in the back of his mind for perusal later, he cleaned the table and rinsed out his coffee cup. Feeling much better, he went back to his duties. 

* * *

It was a clear, cool evening when Jim Ellison pulled up into the employee parking lot at 11:00 p.m. He guided his truck into its usual spot and killed the engine. He sighed and put his head back. For the past few weeks, he had been sleeping badly and when he did sleep, it was dream-filled and unsettling. Strange creatures flitted through his dreams. A large black, gray and white wolf and a black panther seemed to dominate his nocturnal world. The night before though, a spotted jaguar had appeared, vicious and menacing. He had watched, a helpless viewer, while the spotted cat attacked the wolf, leaving it bloody and dying on the forest floor. The black panther soon appeared, seemingly to the rescue, but it was too late. The panther screamed its distress while the wolf lay dying. Jim woke before the wolf actually died and before the panther did what Jim would do if he were the creature -- find the jaguar and kill it. 

Jim shook off the melancholy of the dream and opened his eyes. Something moved at the edge of the lawn. Jim peered closely across the wide expanse of grass. While he could make out the shape of a person running, he couldn't discern who it was. Worried that one of the patients had somehow escaped, he allowed his sight to tunnel and focus. He carefully sent his vision out until the person's face became clear. Jim sat up and held the steering wheel with both hands. It was Bennie Jones. 

Instantly on alert, Jim hopped from the truck and quietly raced toward the figure. He stopped when Bennie disappeared into a small grove of trees. Jim crossed to the other side of the grove where he waited and watched. When Bennie didn't reappear, Jim was puzzled. He considered barreling into the stand of trees and grabbing the escaping inmate, but something made him stop -- the sound of voices. Jim focused his hearing on the murmurs until the sounds became distinct words. 

"...I'm getting fucking tired of acting like an idiot!" 

A female voice answered. "It's your ass, you stupid bastard. You want to blow your cover, go ahead, and see if I care. It took me a solid year to get this set up to hide your sorry ass, but if ten mil doesn't make you hold on a little longer, well, then, fuck you. I'll be more than happy to spend the money by myself." 

Jim listened intently. 

"You need me," the man protested. 

The feminine laugh was cold and cruel. "Think again. I'm the brain of this operation. You have a little knowledge and that's it. I can change the arrangements at any time." 

"Okay, okay. I'm willing to wait a while longer. What's the time frame?" 

"I need six weeks. Then it's a go." 

A deep sigh was heard. "Okay, okay, Alex. Six weeks. But what I don't get is why you insist that that weirdo guy has to come with us." 

"Because, asshole, I say so. He's mine and I'm taking back what's mine." 

"But he's such a wuss! You need a real man, like me." 

Jim heard a slap. 

"Don't you ever come that close to me again uninvited." Ice dripped from her words. 

"Hey! That was uncalled for. Besides, that hurt and how am I going to explain it!" 

The woman's voice turned soft. "Oh, poor baby. Want mommy to kiss it and make it better?" 

"No, thanks, Alex. With claws like that, I'll pass." 

"You are such a fucking whiner. Blair is twice the man you are." 

Jim was shocked when he heard Blair's name being mentioned. He sucked in his breath and took a couple of steps backwards, stumbling over a tree root. He fell back with a crash. 

"What was that?" the woman's voice asked. 

"Huh? I didn't hear anything?" 

"Shhhh." 

Jim lay very still, barely breathing. His senses went into full alert. 

"Somebody's here," she said. Jim heard the swoosh of clothing and then he smelled gun oil. A safety was flicked off and a pistol cocked. "Stay put," she hissed. The sounds of her footsteps echoed loudly in Jim's ears. He didn't move, hoping that the darkness covered his position enough to hide his presence. 

The footsteps came closer and closer. Jim dilated his eyes and focused on the shape creeping through the bushes. Dark clothes covered the body, but Jim could see a few strands of blond hair escaping from under the knit cap. He catalogued the face into his memory: Blue eyes. Full red lips. Straight nose. Slim, well built. Young, maybe thirty-ish. Something about her made the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He looked intently at her face. Amazingly, before his eyes, the woman's face melded with the face of a spotted jaguar. Jim's eyes narrowed. He blinked rapidly, struggling to clear away the strange apparition, but the merged faces remained. A cold sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and chilled him when he recognized the animal as the same one from his dreams. 

The woman stopped. Her stance was somehow familiar. He watched while her nostrils flared and her head cocked. She seemed to focus resolutely. When Jim realized what she was doing, he held his breath. He recognized the signs. She was searching for him by scent and hearing! With a jolt of astonishment, he realized that he had found another. Someone like him. Someone with heightened senses. He also knew that if he was right, he was dead meat. She could find him in seconds and she had a weapon. 

Suddenly, she gasped. The gun fell to the ground with a dull thump. She sank to her knees and held her head between her hands, groaning. Jim watched, knowing that the woman was in pain and that she needed several minutes of deep breathing before she could finally rise. She rubbed her forehead, sighing deeply. Jim was dumbfounded when he heard her mutter, "Blair, how could you do this to me? I need you!" She stumbled off into the night. 

Jim waited many long minutes. Off in the distance, he heard a car engine start and the vehicle drive away. Closer, he heard Bennie make his way back to the facility. Jim finally rolled over and rose, brushing off his pants. He followed Bennie until he saw the man enter an emergency basement door after swiping a key card down the lock. Jim waited until Bennie disappeared before he went through the front door. He made a mental list of what he needed to do. He would keep what he had seen quiet until he knew what was going on. He filed away the precious information that the woman had heightened senses and had what appeared to be minimal control over them. He would examine the unsettling vision of the woman's face joining with the spotted jaguar of his dreams. He vowed that he would keep an extra careful eye on Blair Sandburg to be sure he was safe. Jim sighed. And he would talk to his friends down at the Cascade PD to figure out just what the hell was going on. 

* * *

Simon Banks poured coffee. "Jim, it's good seeing you," he said again for the second time in five minutes. 

"Thanks, Simon. It's good seeing you, too. It's just strange..." Jim shrugged and took a sip of the hot brew. 

"Yeah, I know." Simon sat and smiled. "It's damned weird without you here after all those years. You doing okay?" 

"I'm doing okay." 

"How's Conover working out?" 

"Pretty good. Actually, that's what I'm here about. I'm looking for any information about a guy who's a patient there." 

"Sure. Anything I can do to help. May I ask why?" 

Jim shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but I feel this -- connection to this guy. I don't know how to describe it." 

"Does this have anything to do with what you were going through? With your -- you-know-whats?" 

Jim sighed. "I think so. Hell, I don't know any more. I'm just so fucked up." 

"No, you're not. You're a strong person and a hell of a good detective. I wish you'd consider coming back to the force." 

"Simon, we've been though all that before." 

"Ellison," Simon growled, "I think you're doing yourself a huge disservice! You belong here? with us!" 

Jim rose. "Please, Simon!" 

Simon held up a hand. "Sorry, Jim," he said contritely. "I miss you, you bastard!" 

Jim sat and smiled. "Thanks. I miss all of you, too. Anyway..." 

"Okay, what's this guy's name?" 

"Blair Sandburg." 

"What?" Simon's face was surprised. 

"Simon?" 

"Oh my God! I know that name. He's the kid Brown and I pulled from the fountain at Rainier about a year ago. It took us a hell of a long time to get him breathing, Jim. He suffered brain damage from the lack of oxygen. I knew he was at Conover, but I didn't even think about him when you told me you were working there." 

"Whoa. Start at the beginning. Why didn't I hear about this?" 

"You were staying out at your brother's cabin, recovering from the gunshot wounds from that convenience store robbery. Remember? No phone. No television." 

"Oh, that's when it happened? Okay, give me the rundown." 

"Hang on. Let me get the file." Simon hit the intercom. "Rhonda, do me a favor and run down to Records. Bring me the Sandburg file." After Rhonda acknowledged the request, Simon turned back to Jim. 

"Sandburg was a grad student at Rainier. He was going for his PhD. in Anthro. Seems his specialty was something called Sentinels." Simon rubbed his chin. "If I remember correctly, those are some mythical creatures with super senses." Simon didn't notice Jim's eyes widen nor did he pay much attention when Jim sat up straighter and moved to the edge of his seat. "Anyway, seems that Sandburg thought he'd found one of these Sentinels, some woman. They had a falling out. A lover's quarrel, I expect. She cracked him over the head and dumped him into the fountain." 

"Where's the woman now? Locked up?" 

Simon shook his head. "Nah. She got away. I put my best men on it, but she just disappeared." A knock on the door interrupted Simon's musings. "Come!" 

Rhonda opened the door. "Captain, here's the Sandburg file." 

"Thanks, Rhonda." 

"Hi, Jim," Rhonda said. "Good seeing you around the bullpen again." 

"Thanks, Rhonda. It's good to be here." 

"You take care." 

"You, too," Jim answered. 

Simon flipped open the file. "Here's a picture of Sandburg." He slipped the photo over to Jim, along with another photograph. "That's Alex Barnes. She's the one who tried to kill Sandburg. Warrant's still outstanding. She's bad news. Her rap sheet is a mile long." Simon passed the printout of Barnes' offenses. 

"Shit." 

"What?" 

"I've seen this woman." 

"Where? She's very dangerous." 

"The other night I got to work early. I saw Bennie... Simon, something big is going down at Conover. I saw one of the patients, Bennie Jones, running across the lawn. I thought he'd escaped so I followed him. He met a woman in the woods. This woman." Jim tapped the picture with a finger. "They talked about him staying hidden for a while longer. I overheard her ask for six weeks. Then she said that when her plan was ready to be executed, that she was taking Blair with her. That he was hers and nothing would keep her from him." 

Simon chewed on the end of a cigar. "Jones. Bennie Jones. The name doesn't ring any bells. An alias?" 

"Yeah, I'll bet on it." 

Both men sat silently for a few long minutes before Jim said, "I'll check the files and try to ID this Jones." 

"Jim, you've been gone from us too long. Don't you remember it's a state run facility? I have access to their files." 

"Oh, yeah, right, Captain. Sorry. I'm just..." 

"You're worried about the kid, aren't you? It's the cop in you. You can't deny your instincts forever, Jim." When Jim sipped his coffee and remained silent, Simon scowled for a moment. "Okay. Let's think. What about the guy who runs the place? He's been head honcho over there for about two years now, but I haven't had any dealings with him. I haven't heard anything bad, though. He's gotten pretty high marks for cleaning up the place and running it efficiently." 

"Anderson seems okay. I think he's just what he appears -- a caring man who's doing a hard job. You might run a check anyway. In fact, I'd suggest running everybody through the database. It couldn't hurt." 

"Will do. So what are you going to do now?" 

Jim shrugged. "Keep an eye on things. Keep my ears open." He ignored Simon's smirk. "Don't start with me, Simon." 

Simon gave Jim a 'Who, me?' look before he chuckled deeply. "I'm never giving up on you, Ellison," he growled good-naturedly. "You're one of my own. You belong here." 

Jim gave Simon a warm smile. "Thank you." 

"Jim, I'm going to say this, so don't jump down my throat." 

"Sure, Simon. You know you can be up front with me." 

Simon cleared his throat. "This thing Sandburg was studying -- Sentinels -- do you think that you're one of them? You have the senses for it." 

Jim was silent for a moment before he answered. "I don't know, Simon. It would be almost a relief to finally know exactly why I'm like I am. To have a name for it makes it seem more -- normal. To maybe not be the only one makes me feel better. Then I won't feel so..." Jim stopped and rubbed his forehead. 

"So different?" 

"Yeah." 

"Ellison, those senses were what gave you your edge. They made you a better detective." 

"But I couldn't control them!" Jim rose. 

"Jim, think about this. Maybe you're supposed to -- I don't know -- hook up with this Sandburg. Think about it. That's all I ask. Maybe he has some answers for you." 

Jim walked over to the window. He turned and finally smiled. "Thanks, Simon." 

"For what?" 

"For caring about me." 

"We're friends," Simon growled. "Of course I care." Simon dismissed Jim with a wave. "Out. I have work to do." 

Jim walked over to Simon's desk and drained the last of his coffee. "Talk to you later." 

"You be careful!" 

"Right." He nodded and left. 

* * *

One morning, shortly after Simon and Jim's meeting, Jim had returned to the loft to shower and to try to sleep. He opened the door and automatically scanned the answering machine. The red light blinked so he hit the play button. 

"Ellison. Banks. Call me ASAP. I have news. Later." 

Jim placed the return call immediately. 

"Banks. Ellison." 

"Jim, his name is Henderson Blank. He's from Philadelphia. The guy disappeared over twelve months ago with ten mil of laundered drug money. He's wanted in twelve states and six countries. Not to mention that the Colombian drug cartel would love to chop him into small pieces." 

"And he's been hiding at Conover all this time." 

"Seems so. Something big is going down here. I want to nab this guy and Alex Barnes." 

"Yeah. I can understand that." 

Jim fell silent. Simon waited. 

"Jim?" 

"Simon, I'm not sure what I can do." 

"I need your help. Jim, please." 

Jim sighed heavily, knowing immediately that he would accept. "What's the plan?" 

"You're a civilian. We have to keep this quiet. Only you and I know about this. Hell, I hope I'm doing the right thing here." Simon's sigh sounded loud to Jim's ears. "Listen. We don't know where Barnes is. Neither do we know where she has the money stashed. I could run Blanks' prints and pull him out, but unless he knows where to find the woman and the cash, and spills the beans, that means we get him but we don't get Barnes or the money. I'm not willing to lose both of them and the goods." Silence descended before Simon cleared his throat. "Are you willing to stay in on this one, Jim? You'll be on your own until it goes down. Then I expect you to back off and call for backup. Can you handle this?" 

"Simon, I don't have much of a choice, now, do I?" 

"Sure. You do. I can make up some reason to send in somebody undercover. Rafe is great at that sort of assignment. I can send him in. Brown will watch his back." 

"I'm already in. Don't bother. I'll handle it." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Don't call me. I'll keep in touch when I can but it might be a while. Things are really quiet." 

"To arrest Blank and Barnes and to recover that money, I'm willing to take my chances with you, Ellison." 

"You got it, Captain. I'll do my best." 

"I know you will, Detec -- Jim. Thank you." 

"Good morning, Sir." 

"Be careful, Jim." 

* * *

Jim was relentless in his vigil. He spent every free moment at Conover, volunteering for double shifts whenever possible. He watched and listened. He patrolled and inspected. For weeks, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Bennie still acted like he always did, a patient with the intelligence level of a twelve-year old boy. Jim had searched Bennie's room thoroughly, but had found no evidence of the key card he had seen the man use that night. Jim had absolutely no proof that Bennie wasn't what he appeared, so he didn't make any kind of report to Dr. Anderson. There wasn't anything he could say so he remained silent, for the moment. 

Jim kept a close eye on Blair. Inch by inch, Blair started to respond to his presence. Jim didn't push the man. He'd read Blair's file. He had nothing but sympathy for what he had gone through. Apparently, Blair had a relationship with Alex Barnes, not realizing that she was a criminal with a long and violent record. She had been hanging around the university for months before she tried to kill Blair. Jim had no idea how Blair discovered her special abilities, nor did he know how Alex found Blair while he was at the University, but somehow, the two had found each other. If Alex responded to Blair as he did, then he understood the pull she must have felt to the man. Something in him attracted a person like Jim or Alex. He wondered why that was. Why she tried to kill him was another matter. Maybe he couldn't help her with her runaway senses. Maybe he discovered she wasn't who she purported to be and called her on it. Maybe he just plain didn't like her and told her to get lost. Whatever had happened, she didn't take kindly to his rejection. From what Jim could put together from talking to people around Blair's old campus, he and Alex seemed to be an item up until the morning he was found floating face down in the fountain. 

Simon had filled him in on what he remembered from that morning. He had heard the emergency call about a body in the fountain while on his way into the precinct. When he arrived, he met up with Henri Brown, who had also responded to the call for help. For more than ten minutes, they administered CPR on the unresponsive man. Finally, just as the paramedics had arrived, they were able to restart Blair's heart. Simon followed up with the hospital a couple of days later. He had been informed that Blair had survived, but when he regained consciousness, it was discovered that he had suffered brain damage from the lack of oxygen. He was sent to Conover at the request of his only living relative, his mother, Naomi Sandburg. 

Jim often wondered about Blair's diagnosis. He had seen the man reading and writing. He was able to think and respond. He felt pain and happiness. The only thing he didn't do was speak, at least out loud. Jim's sensitive hearing heard the small murmurs and tiny sounds that Blair made while he was alone in his room. He knew that Blair was capable of speech, but chose to remain silent. He was also smart enough to continue the act with everyone with whom he came in contact. Jim had no doubt that what he had suffered at the hands of someone he cared for would be enough to damage the man's psyche to the point where silence was his best defense. Jim added another question to his musings. Did he want to do something to help Blair overcome his barrier? And if so, why did he even care to try? 

Jim wondered if he really wanted an answer to that last question. If he examined his feelings about Blair, he might not be happy with what he discovered about himself. Not usually a coward, Jim wondered what the hell could make him run like a scared rabbit when he thought about what Blair could possibly mean to him. He would examine those feelings soon, he told himself, but for the moment, he was content hiding even from himself. 

* * *

"Ow. Ow. Ow." Bennie cried big tears and rocked, holding his hand close to his chest. 

"Bennie," Jim asked quietly, "what's wrong?" He breathed through his mouth at the smell of the Sen-Sen licorice wafting from the man's mouth while he spoke. 

"Hurts!" Bennie sobbed. 

"What happened?" Jim cajoled. 

Madeline chimed in. "He says he's got a splinter. He's been down to the infirmary three times, but they can't find a thing. Don't pay him any attention. He's a big baby." 

"Am not!" Bennie shouted. 

Jim walked around the sofa and knelt in front of Bennie. Blair sat in his usual spot, at the far right corner of the sofa. Jim could see Blair watching him from the corner of his eye. 

"Let me look, Bennie," Jim said softly. He managed to hide his consternation at being this close to Bennie when he knew the man was a criminal. He had no choice but to play along. It was too dangerous not to, for Blair's sake. "Where does it hurt?" 

Bennie held out his hand, palm up. With a dirty fingernail, he pointed at a spot on his palm right below his thumb on the fleshy pad. Jim focused in briefly. 

"I see it. Hang on." Jim rose and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a Swiss army knife. From the edge of it, he pulled out the small pair of tweezers. Kneeling back down, he took Bennie's hand in his and carefully pulled out the tiny splinter. "There. Better?" 

Bennie gave Jim a wide smile, sniffling loudly. He wiped the back of his hand across his runny nose. "Better!" he echoed, smiling. 

"Good." Jim rose, replaced the tweezers and smiled. God, he hated acting like he liked this man, and the smell of the licorice almost overwhelmed him. It was a smell that he had learned to hate in the past few months. He pursed his lips together, watching Madeline and Bennie fawn over the hand on which he had successfully operated. When he glanced over at Blair, blue eyes watched him intently. He grinned and shrugged. Blair's eyes narrowed in understanding for a brief moment before he did something he hadn't done before, he gave Jim a ghost of a smile before he dropped his head. His hair fell over his face but not before Jim saw the smile broaden. 

Jim walked to the door. "Behave yourselves." With a backward glance at Blair, he left to check the ward. 

* * *

Jim had worked three double shifts in five days. He was tired and he knew he needed sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, the dreams returned. They were jumbled and unclear. He was not sure who was chasing whom. The black panther appeared in every dream. Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes he was with the wolf. Sometimes the spotted jaguar attacked the black panther, leaving him injured and in pain. Other times it turned on the wolf. Jim woke with his body bathed in sweat and his head pounding, shaking from the strange visions that refused to abate. 

Jim glanced at his watch. His headache hadn't lessened and he felt queasy. He realized he hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, so he went to the lounge and dug into his locker for the sandwich he had packed that morning. Grabbing a Coke from the machine, he went out into the cool morning air and sat on one of the park benches scattered around the grounds. Jim opened the bag and pulled out a cheese sandwich. He popped open the soda and took a deep sip of the cold liquid. Jim set the can down on the bench next to him and took a bite of his sandwich. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, hardly tasting the food. 

When Jim opened his eyes a moment later, he was surprised to see Blair sitting on the bench next to him. Setting the sandwich down on the paper sack, he rubbed his aching head. 

"Good morning, Chief." 

Blair pulled his book against his chest and protectively crossed his arms over it. His hair was pulled back in an elastic band, giving Jim a clear view of the side of his face. 

"You hungry?" Jim asked. He picked up the sandwich and tore it in half, holding a piece out to Blair. 

Blair glanced at the food for a moment before he snaked a hand out to grab it from Jim's fingers. He took a small bite and chewed. Jim tried not to stare at the man, but in the bright morning sunlight it was hard not to notice his features. 

Blair's hair was dark brown with red highlights that glimmered in the sun. The curls were bunched at the nape of his neck, revealing the strong neckline. His skin was a creamy golden color. Jim realized that Blair hadn't been exposed to very much sun in a long while. His beard was heavy. Jim knew that he was the kind of guy who had a five o'clock shadow before noon. The fingers that held the sandwich were capable-looking and expressive. Jim had no doubt that when Blair was talking and animated, the hands flew through the hair, punctuating his ideas and points. Jim found himself staring helplessly at Blair's lips. When his tongue flicked out and licked a few errant crumbs from them, Jim felt his body respond. His blood quickened and his mind took a suicidal twist when it conjured up those lips, full and firm, pressed against his. 

Unexpectedly, Jim rose, knocking over the half-full can of sofa. Blair froze mid-bite while Jim focused. He heard Blair's heart rate skyrocket and felt the wave of apprehension roll from his body. Jim was instantly contrite when he realized Blair thought he had done something wrong. 

"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Sandburg. It wasn't your fault. You didn't knock over the can." Jim uprighted the gurgling can. "It's only soda. Nothing to worry about." Jim stared at the unresponsive man. "Is that it? You thought I'd get angry with you? Did you think I'd hit you?" Jim slowly sat back down. "See, I'm not angry." Jim smiled. "Look at me," he asked softly. The silence stretched. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two. "Please, Chief? I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you," he whispered. 

Blair took a deep breath and blew it out shakily. He bit his lip and slowly raised his face. Jim held his breath. Blair's eyes were looking at his chest. Then they traveled up to his neck. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they flicked up to meet Jim's. Jim smiled. Blair looked away quickly but Jim waited patiently. After another long minute, Jim was pleased when Blair's eyes met his. 

Blair jumped up, startling Jim at his sudden movement. He pushed the book he held in his hands into Jim's arms. Before Jim could react, he turned, ran back across the grass and disappeared into the building, leaving Jim stunned that Blair would part with his precious book and wondering why he had done it. 

* * *

Jim finished two shifts before he finally let himself into the loft late the next morning. He had caught a nap in the employee lounge and had stayed for his regular shift. He dropped his keys in the basket and hung his jacket. Walking over to the kitchen table, he reverently set down Blair's book, pulled out a chair and sat, staring at the item for a long minute before he peeled back the tape holding the plastic that covered it. 

'The Sentinels of Paraguay' was embossed onto the discolored brown leather cover. Jim swallowed hard before he rose and went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer and uncapped the bottle. A swig or two later, he wiped his mouth and sighed. Torn between what he wanted to know and what he was afraid he'd learn, Jim bit the bullet. Steeling himself, he went back over to the table and, after wiping his fingers on his jeans, he opened the book and started to read. 

Three hours later, Jim leaned back and rubbed his eyes. A lot of the pieces of the puzzle that was his life were now in place. The story of tribal sentinels and their abilities were written down and researched by a scientist. Granted, that scientist lived over a hundred years before, but Jim had no doubts about what he had read. How could he when he had lived it? He might not be a tribal warrior in the old ways, but his life, his former profession, could very well fit the description of a modern-day warrior. He was a Sentinel. Jim rose and stretched while his stomach rumbled loudly, citing its displeasure at the lack of nutrition. Phone in hand, two minutes later he had placed an order for an extra large pepperoni, green pepper and onion pizza. Telling his body that food would be forthcoming shortly, he went in to shower. 

Shaven, teeth brushed and hair combed, Jim had just come out of the bathroom when a knock at the door announced the pizza delivery. He paid with a twenty and smiled at the gushing girl who thanked him profusely when he told her to keep the change. It was only five bucks, but she was thrilled. A college student, Jim was sure. Closing the door, he slid the box onto the metal kitchen table, grabbed a bottle of water and a pile of napkins, and sat down to eat. 

Jim pushed back from the table. He hadn't enjoyed a meal that much in a long time and for the moment he felt content. He stowed the leftovers and wiped the table. A few minutes later, the clean up was completed. He carefully washed, then wiped his hands on a clean towel and retrieved Blair's book from the corner of the table. Carrying the book over to the sofa, he sat and tapped his fingers against the binding. Jim happened to glance down and noticed the edge of a sheet of paper sticking out from under the back binding. He turned the book over and pulled the paper out. The sheet was folded so he opened it and read the typewritten words: 

_Humanity has long dug into its past in the hope that it will shed light on its future. Perhaps what this reveals is that it is the best of ourselves that will survive and lead us through the next millennium. Watching our every step will be our tribal protectors -- the sentinels -- and their insight will further illuminate the spiritual connection of all things._

_The End._

Nothing else was typed on the page except the number 165 at the bottom. Jim turned the page over several times. Obviously, it was the final page of a paper. He wondered if it was a paper that Blair had written while he was studying Sentinels. Jim sat and tapped the paper against the book, thinking. He rose, tossed on his jacket, pulled on his hiking boots, and retrieved his keys from the basket beside the door. 

Thirty minutes later, Jim was at the library at Rainier University, speaking to the head librarian. 

"Hello, I was wondering if you could help me." 

"Certainly, sir. What can I do for you?" the older woman asked politely. 

"I'm looking for any articles written by one of your former students." 

"If you'll give me the student's name and department, I'll do a search of our records." 

"Thank you. Blair Sandburg. Anthropology. He was studying for his PhD." 

"Oh, yes. I remember Blair. Very nice young man. Too bad about what happened." 

"Yeah," Jim replied noncommittally, watching while the woman entered the information into the computer. 

"If his papers were published, we'd have copies." She studied the screen for a few minutes. "Here you go." The woman wrote on a yellow sticky note. "There are several articles on microfilm. You can make copies right from the machines that are located at the back of the library behind the last set of tables." She pointed to the north end of the building. 

"Thank you for your help." 

"You're welcome. Good day." 

Jim started to walk away when the woman called, "Sir? Excuse me." 

"Yes?" 

"Do you mind if I ask why you're interested in Blair?" 

"I've met him recently and I'm extremely interested in his research." 

"Oh? Is he okay? He's a fine young man. I always liked Blair. So polite." 

"He's doing much better." 

"Good. Please tell him Esther Fawkes asked about him, will you?" 

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be sure to do that." 

"I just remembered. Blair had an office over in the Anthro Building. It was in Artifact Storage, Room 3. That's on the second floor. You might ask one of the professors in the Anthro building if any of his books and papers are still be in storage over there." 

"Okay. Thank you, ma'am. You've been very helpful." 

"You're welcome, young man." 

Jim made copies of the articles that he found that Blair had had published both as an undergrad and as a grad student. Then he visited the Anthropology Building. After speaking to one of the professors and explaining that he was a friend of Blair's, he was shown the room where two large file boxes of papers marked 'Sandburg' were stowed in a corner. When the professor expressed his fear that the papers would be destroyed if someone didn't claim them soon, Jim asked for and was granted permission to take the boxes. After providing identification and signing a release form, Jim raced back to the loft with his prizes. He spent the next four hours sorting through the papers, reading summaries as he made different piles. Sentinel papers and research in one pile; various other expedition and tribal research in another. 

From the very bottom on the second box, he pulled out a metal case. While the case was locked, Jim didn't even think twice about picking the ineffective lock. He had it open in under a minute and found a typed document. Picking up the first page, he read the title. _"The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg: Genetics, Mythology and Ontology of our Tribal Protectors"._ Jim felt his heart race. Pulling out the loose pages, he checked the last one. It was exactly like the page he had found in Blair's book. It was Blair's dissertation. This could hold the answers to his secrets. Well, at least some of them, he thought, almost amused with himself that he was this intent on figuring out the secrets of his abilities and even more so, the mystery of Blair Sandburg. 

* * *

Jim waited until Blair was in his room before he knocked lightly. He waited for a moment before he said, "It's Jim Ellison." Jim focused, hearing the heart rate accelerate. He sighed, wondering if Blair would ever stop his negative reactions to Jim's presence. "I have your book, Chief." Jim waited. If Blair couldn't give an indication to Jim that his presence was acceptable, Jim was not going to force himself on Blair. The man had to meet him part way before Jim would feel comfortable with him. Jim had turned to leave when he heard the doorknob click. He watched while it turned slowly and then the door was pulled open. When Jim looked into the room, he couldn't see Sandburg. 

"Chief?" Jim called from the doorway. 

Blair stepped from behind the door, head down. Jim waited patiently until Blair looked at him. 

"Evening, Sandburg." Jim smiled. 

Blair gave Jim a tentative smile and waved a hand. Jim accepted the invitation and entered. Blair closed the door behind Jim. 

"I brought you back your book, Sandburg. I read it. It was pretty interesting, but I don't know why you gave it to me." 

Their eyes met. Blair's eyes bore into his, making Jim blush. He shifted uncomfortably in the silence. 

"Okay, Sandburg. I get it. No tap-dancing. Okay?" Jim waited until Blair nodded before he said, "You think I'm one of these -- Sentinels, don't you?" Jim put the book down on the corner of the desk. "Listen," he said, turning to Blair, "I'm nothing special. I just have a more acute sense of smell and hearing than other people. It's perfectly normal." 

Blair watched closely, chewing on his lower lip. 

Jim was getting frustrated. "I am not a tribal warrior, Chief. I'm just a regular guy who used to be a cop." He rubbed his forehead. The blue eyes stared at him intently. "Damn it, Sandburg! I am not a freak!" he shouted, closing his eyes. 

Blair flinched and took a step backward. Jim heard the nervous click of his throat as he swallowed. Shaking his head, Blair whispered, "No." 

Jim's eyes flew open. In his excitement, he forgot his own discomfort. "What? Chief, you spoke! That's great. No, what?" 

Blair licked his lips before he said very quietly, "Not a freak." 

Jim took a step in Blair's direction, making him retreat back a step. He held up his hands in a non-threatening posture. 

"Sandburg, I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you. I know what happened, Chief." Jim saw Blair's face drain of color and heard his heart rate skyrocket. "Whoa, there, Professor. I didn't mean to upset you. Listen. We'll talk more later. Okay? You're upset and I'm not helping here. I'm not quite sure what to do with all of this." Jim started to beat a hasty retreat, not at all sure what he had done had been a good idea. He had his hand on the doorknob when the quiet voice spoke again. 

"Stay." 

Jim turned. "Are you sure?" 

Blair nodded. "It's been -- a long time," he said huskily, his own voice sounding strange to his ears. 

"Since what, Sandburg?" Jim asked quietly. 

"Since anybody's cared." 

"I care." 

Blair nodded. "I know." 

"What do you want me to do, Chief? What happens now? I'm at a loss here. I can't explain what's happening to me." 

"I can." 

"Do you really think that I'm a -- you know, a Sentinel?" Both men were cautious about their first real exchange. 

The sapphire blue eyes met his. "Two years ago, I would have been -- excited to find you. Now, I'm just -- terrified." 

"What happened to you -- that wasn't what a -- a protector would do. I read the book, Chief. A tribal protector guards his people, not tries to kill them." 

From the unsettled look on Blair's face, Jim wondered if he was doing the right thing, confiding in a mental patient. Jim wasn't a doctor. He might be making a big mistake. Blair could really have brain damage from his experience. Maybe Jim was wrong in his assessment of Sandburg. He could be damaging the guy with his need to figure out what he was and how to handle it. 

"Ah, listen, Sandburg. I have to get back to work. I'll talk to you later." Jim watched the hurt look cross Blair's face. Jim felt sorry for the slim man. "We'll talk again. Okay?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said in a tone that conveyed his disbelief at Jim's assurances. "Later, man," he whispered, turning away. The disappointment was evident in his voice. 

"Blair, I promise. I just need some time." Jim waited until Blair's eyes met his, then he gave him a reassuring smile. "I promise," he said solemnly. 

"Okay." A wide smile lit up the solemn face, making Jim grin. "I believe you." 

* * *

It was a beautiful day. Sunlight streamed into the arts and crafts room, painting everybody with warm, golden streaks. Blair was so intent on his work that he didn't raise his head when Jim walked into the room. Jim sauntered around and admired everybody's endeavors. He commented to each individual, making sure he said something positive about whatever project the patient was working on. When he reached Blair, he froze, his heart thudding in his chest. 

Blair's painting was a colorful array of designs, each blending gently into its neighbor, creating a thing of true beauty. But it was the designs themselves that had Jim's heart pounding and his blood burning. Strange symbols danced before his eyes. A large black panther. A strong looking black, gray and white wolf. What looked to be Aztec or Mayan symbols outlined the animals' faces. Jim noticed an eye painted in one corner that seemed to follow him when he stepped to the right and then back again. A crumbling pile of stones with unusual faces on them dominated another corner. Some sort of a stone altar was almost hidden behind a curtain of thick jungle foliage. He studied what looked like hieroglyphics that Blair had placed along the entire edge of the canvas, creating a frame of sorts around the symbols and the animals. 

The colors grabbed Jim's sense of sight and firmly held his attention. He was almost mesmerized by the way the colors harmonized. Blair had used strong colors: black, white, gray, dark blue, deep green, burgundy and brown. The painting was a thing of splendor. It was also a mirror into his dreams. He held his breath before letting it out slowly. Reaching out a finger, he tentatively touched the edge of the canvas. 

Blair looked over his shoulder. A ghost of a smile brushed his lips. When he saw the rapt look on Jim's face, his eyes sparkled with delight at Jim's reaction. 

"It's beautiful," Jim said softly. He tore his eyes away from the painting and looked down to see Blair watching him closely. Jim smiled at the pleased look on Blair's face. 

After a quick glance around to be sure nobody could hear him, Jim said quietly, "You've read my mind. You're in my dreams." Their eyes locked and the connection between then hummed with electricity, with life, with desire. "Blair," Jim whispered, conveying with his companion's name everything he felt in his heart. 

Blair shivered before he smiled slightly and nodded. 

Jim acknowledged the brief, intense connection before an irritating sound of a squeaky cart wheeling by the door broke the spell. Jim quickly looked out into the hallway before he turned back to Blair. With a tender smile and a quick pat on Blair's arm, Jim left. 

A few days later, Blair was in the TV room when Jim was on his regular shift. When he came into the sitting room to check on the patients, Blair sat very still, barely breathing. 

"Evening, folks," Jim said as he entered the room. 

"Hi, Jim," Madeline called out. 

Bennie Jones and another young woman acknowledged Jim's presence with timid 'hellos'. Blair was silent. 

Jim stood behind the back of the sofa. "Hello, Sandburg." 

Blair did not look up but he moved his right hand to the arm of the sofa. Jim watched closely while Blair's hand continued its journey until it fell over the side and his fingers tapped against something, making a crisp, hollow sound. Jim waited until Blair's hand moved and a large, flat object wrapped in brown paper cleared the sofa, bumping against Jim's leg. 

"What's this, Sandburg?" 

Blair shrugged. 

Jim leaned down and picked up the item. It was tied securely with string and his name was written across the paper in black marker. 

"Is this for me?" Jim smelled the fresh scent of lacquer, oil paint, wood and canvas. "This is your painting, Chief." 

Blair nodded slightly. 

"Are you sure?" 

Blair nodded again. 

Jim picked up the packet. "Thank you." 

Blair shrugged. Jim smiled. Madeline watched closely. 

* * *

"Dr. Anderson? You wanted to see me?" 

"Yes. Come in, Jim. Sit down." 

Jim sat quietly waiting for Dr. Anderson to finish writing. Pen capped, Anderson sat back. "I've had some rather unsettling reports, Jim." 

"Sir?" 

"You've been fraternizing, I understand." 

"No, sir." 

"What's this I hear about you and Mr. Sandburg? You spend an inordinate amount of time with the man. This is against regulations." 

"I -- don't think I'm spending an inordinate amount of time with Sandburg, sir. He's a bright guy. We get along. He needs a friend and I'm willing to be that friend." 

"Jim, he is an mental patient. He has permanent brain damage from his accident. Mr. Sandburg cannot make informed decisions regarding his choice of friends. Hell, he can't even string two words together." 

Jim sat up, bristling. "Sir, Sandburg isn't stupid! He's perfectly capable of thinking for himself. He's..." Jim bit his lip. Blair was still in danger. Jim had to protect him and revealing his ability to speak might put him in jeopardy. While Jim felt Dr. Anderson was a good man, he didn't know what information the doctor might inadvertently let slip at inopportune times. Even the best of men had been toppled by pillow talk. Jim clamped his lips together. 

"I'm afraid I'll have to make a note in your file about this talk, Jim. I'm a bit disappointed because I have been quite pleased with your work up to this point. Don't let this interfere with your employment opportunities with us here at Conover." Dr. Anderson sighed. "I only want what's best for my patients. Fraternizing isn't good for Mr. Sandburg and showing special consideration for one patient above the others makes for a bad situation." Dr. Anderson looked not unkindly at Jim. "I don't want Mr. Sandburg to be the target of any unpleasantness. Some of the patients become jealous easily. I feel it's better if you do not display favoritism toward any one particular patient. Am I making myself clear?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Thank you. You may go." 

* * *

Jim avoided Blair for several days. He knew that Blair shadowed him for the first day or two before he retreated to his room and did not emerge, even for meals. Jim was worried, but he had to be careful. He waited until the quiet early morning hours on a Tuesday before he turned the handle to Blair's room and slipped in. 

"Sandburg?" Jim whispered. 

"Go away." 

"Please, Chief, I need to talk to you." 

"Liar." 

Jim sighed. "You're upset." The silence lengthened before Jim said, "I'm sorry. Dr. Anderson found out that you and I had become -- friends. He threatened to fire me. I couldn't take the risk, Sandburg. He feels that if I show you partiality that you might be a target of a jealous patient." 

"You didn't want to lose your job over being my friend." The quiet voice was tinged with coolness. "You broke your promise." 

"No! No, Chief. I didn't want you hurt because of anything I did. I couldn't take the chance Anderson would transfer you or anything like that." 

A sudden inhalation of breath was heard. "Oh! I didn't think of that. Do you think he could do that? Make me go away?" Blair's heart rate spiked. 

"Hell, Chief," Jim crossed the small space easily in the dark and knelt beside the bed. "I don't know. He could tell your mother and she might decide our friendship was too -- dangerous for you. You're brain damaged, you know." 

Blair chuckled, his respiration settling. "Oh, yeah, right. I forgot." 

"How can you laugh about it? You're locked up in a fucking mental hospital!" 

"Shhh. Jim, Jim, Jim. I'm safe here. She -- nobody can find me here." 

Jim reached out a hand and touched Blair's arm. When Blair didn't pull away, Jim was pleased. He rubbed the warm skin lightly. "Who's that, Blair? Do you want to tell me?" 

"I -- I haven't told anybody." 

"You can tell me if you want." 

A deep sigh escaped the full lips. Jim fought the urge to hold the slim, sturdy body in his arms and caress the long curls. He tamped down the need to kiss that mouth and whisper tender endearments into the ears after nibbling the lobes. He longed to bring cries of delight and pleasure to the man before him. Jim hid his feelings and said softly, "I'm here for you, Blair." 

"Thanks, man. It's been so long. I need to tell you. You're -- special. You'll understand." Blair fell silent. Jim waited for him to speak again, giving him the time to sort through his thoughts. "I thought she was my Holy Grail. She was what I'd always dreamed of. Five heightened senses. A beautiful woman. But Jim, she was evil. She played me like a Stradivarius, and I let her because I thought?" Blair stopped and squeezed his eyes closed. 

"It's okay, Chief. You don't have to tell me." 

"No! No, please. I want to. I know how wrong I was. She wasn't my Holy Grail, Jim. That was the problem! When we tried -- when she wanted to -- bond. I couldn't!" Another silent stretch before Blair continued. "I tried to help her to learn to control her senses, but she ignored a lot of my suggestions. I developed special exercises to help her. She would practice a few times before giving up. She never learned the value of concentration. She was way too impatient. That's when she would blame me for her failure to control them." 

Blair fell silent, giving Jim a moment to think. Bond -- could that mean what he thought Blair was trying to tell him? That the Sentinel bonded with the person who trained them to control their senses? The partner about which Burton had spoken in his book? Maybe that was why, in all of Jim's adult life, his sexual encounters had left him feeling somewhat -- unsatisfied. He rarely searched for a sexual partner and when he did, it was always brief and almost impersonal. To get rid of the edge that masturbation couldn't. The need to connect that he sometimes felt. Maybe this was another piece of his life's puzzle. This man was the partner that he needed -- that he wanted. Jim filed this important information away and dragged his runaway thoughts back into focus when Blair started speaking again. 

"She insisted that if we slept together, that everything would be better." Blair stifled a sob. "I couldn't do it! Just her touch was enough to give me a headache. I'd try and try and then I'd be upset because I couldn't -- respond." Jim could feel the heat radiating from Blair's face over what he considered his abject failure. "I'd try to leave but she'd become apologetic. She'd hold me and tell me she loved me. She could be sweet and kind for a little while. But she didn't love me; she used me. Oh, man. I was so stupid! I deserved to die, so I let her -- kill me." 

"No!" Jim interrupted. Listening to the naked hurt pouring from Blair's lips struck Jim down to his very soul. Without thinking of the consequences and without asking permission, Jim pulled the shaking man into his arms. "You are not stupid! You didn't deserve to die!" Jim wrapped his arms around the trembling shoulders. 

Blair stiffened briefly. He felt Jim react to his rejection. He almost panicked at the suffocating embrace, but something stopped him. In Jim's arms, he felt safe. He closed his eyes and without thinking about the consequences, he threw his arms around Jim's waist and buried his face in the broad chest. 

They stayed in the embrace for many minutes, not speaking but not trying to move either. Jim finally spoke, petting the long hair. 

"We need to get you out of here, Blair. You don't need to be in here." 

"Where do I need to be?" 

Jim looked down into the face turned up to his. He smiled and ran the backs of his fingers down the face of Blair's cheek. "With me." 

"Oh!" Blair said breathlessly, giving Jim an exquisitely innocent smile. "Jim, what now?" 

"I need to think. Give me some time. Just act norm -- like you always do." Jim chuckled softly. "Please be patient with me. I need to be sure you're safe. I'd better go." Jim stared down at the trusting face. "May I...? 

Blair nodded and closed his eyes. Jim leaned down and brushed his lips against Blair's briefly. He gently removed his arms and rose. With a final loving glance at Blair, he left before he was observed. 

* * *

Jim was extremely careful whenever he and Blair met. While he was worried that they would be caught, he was more concerned that Blair would feel abandoned or neglected. Blair had started trusting again and Jim would allow nothing to disturb their blossoming relationship. 

As more time passed and Jim became more confident in his abilities, he started to experiment actively using his senses. Sometimes he surprised himself when he tried something new. One such very useful ability that he discovered was what he called 'splitting'. It was effectively using one or two senses to do two or more activities at once. He was able to speak with Blair and pay attention to what he was saying while using his hearing to act as lookout. When he and Blair were together, he was able to ensure that their trysts went undetected by other patients, orderlies or doctors. He was especially careful that they were not being spied on since they had obviously been observed and reported on previously. 

Also, Jim had read all of Blair's papers. He practices the exercises that Blair had created for Alex and had described in great detail. Jim was amazed while he studied Blair's work. The man was not only a genius, but his love of his work was infused in his writings. Jim realized how important Blair's work had been to him so he began keeping a daily diary regarding his Sentinel abilities in the hopes that one day he would be able to present Blair with the information. Jim had no doubts that Blair would be well enough to continue his Sentinel research once he was released from the hospital. 

* * *

"Jim, what's wrong? You haven't been sleeping. I can tell." With a hand on either side of Jim's face, Blair eyed his friend closely. 

Jim shrugged, stepping back. "It's nothing, Sandburg. Job stress. Bad hours." He shrugged again. "Maybe the planets are out of alignment," he added, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Fuck nothing, Ellison," Blair growled. "Talk to me. If I can't help..." Blair quickly turned away. 

"Chief?" Jim put warm hands on the slumped shoulders. 

Without turning around or raising his head, Blair whispered, "Sorry. I'll never learn. I don't know what it is, but something in me demands I help you -- guide you. It was the same with..." Blair's shoulders trembled. "Go away, Jim. I need to be alone." 

"No." Jim wrapped his arms around Blair's body and locked his fingers together. "It is not the same, Chief. I'm not Alex. I don't appreciate your comparing me to her," he added forcefully. 

"What's what I mean! I don't ever do the right thing! I say the wrong things all the time. It was better when I didn't talk to anybody!" 

"No!" Jim pulled Blair against him and squeezed. "No, Chief. It wasn't better. If it weren't for you, I'd be locked up in here, too. I was so damned unhappy before I met you." 

Blair raised his head and craned his neck to look over his shoulder up at Jim. "Really?" 

"I don't lie, Sandburg." 

"Oh, I know that, Jim. You're a Sentinel, after all." Blair clamped a hand on his mouth. "Shit," he muttered between his fingers. 

Jim released his hands, spinning Blair around. He led him over to the bed and sat him down. Jim sat beside him and held Blair's hand. "You and I are having this out once and for all." 

Blair's eyes grew wide and he mutely nodded. 

"First, off. I'm not Alex. I'm a Sentinel, apparently, but Alex was an aberration. All of your research acknowledges that fact. You know this, Blair. I understand how upset you are over her, but I won't have you beating yourself over the head day in and day out over that bitch! And you don't have to get upset every time you mention her. She was a big part of your life and she hurt you badly. I want you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about her. About anything and everything. 

"Secondly, your research works, Chief. I'm living proof. I have more control than I ever thought possible. The dials are a stroke of genius. I would have never thought of that. Sandburg, I owe my sanity to you. 

"Thirdly, I'm not much for hashing over my emotions but I want you to know that you're whom I look forward to seeing each and every day. You are my guiding light. I want to take you away from here and I want us to be together. If this is what you want, I need you to tell me and I need you to be patient while I settle some things. What do you say, Chief?" 

"Oh, Jim!" Blair cried, throwing his arms around Jim's neck. "I say yes." 

"Good. Then it's settled. You'll talk to me when you need to. You'll talk to me when I need you to, and you'll be my -- guide." 

"Agreed." Blair held out a hand. 

Jim laughed, took the hand and tugged, pulling Blair into his arms. Smiling, Jim gently kissed Blair's full lips. Blair responded by returning the kiss passionately, making Jim bolder. Jim pressed their lips together forcefully. When Blair's mouth invitingly opened, Jim plunged in without hesitation. Their tongues met, making Jim groan deeply. He felt his body responding and he smelled Blair's arousal. Reluctantly, Jim pulled back. 

"I should go," Jim whispered huskily. 

Blair licked his lips appreciatively while he shook his head, his curls bouncing enticingly. "Not yet. You didn't tell me why you're not sleeping. It's the dreams, isn't it?" At Jim's widened eyes, Blair chuckled. "I've been having them, too." 

"They're so -- confusing. The animals are the most unsettling. I read your research over and over, Sandburg. I didn't see anything about animals." Jim fingered a silken strand of his lover's hair. 

"I've been thinking about that a lot. I've been reading about the cultures that believe in totems and animal spirits and how it affects their lives. In modern day, any good psychologist or psychiatrist will tell you that sometimes dreams are your unconscious mind speaking to you in symbols. Either way, you need to quit fighting it and see what happens. Your animal spirit will guide and protect you, Sentinel." 

Jim smiled, nodding. "Okay, Guide. It's all Greek to me, but I'll follow your advice. I trust you. Nice lecture, by the way, Professor." His fingers raked the long curls, making the static electricity crackle and the hairs stick to his hand. 

Blair blushed and slipped a hand behind Jim's head. "You're a good student." He kissed Jim lightly. "And you're a wonderful kisser." 

Jim grinned. "Good night, Sandburg." 

The men walked to the door. Jim listened for a moment before he hugged Blair, turned the knob and slipped out. 

* * *

"What's this?" Blair asked softly when Jim handed him the package rolled in a piece of cloth and tied with light twine. 

"Something," Jim answered, suddenly anxious now that he had given the item to Blair. He had waited patiently until he was sure they would be undisturbed before he gave Blair his gift. 

Blair chuckled. "Something. Good answer." He pulled off the piece of twine holding the rolled packet closed. Carefully, he unrolled the item, glancing up once to see Jim watching with bright, intent eyes. Blair smiled lovingly at Jim's nervousness. Without unwrapping the packet further and without having a clue what the gift was, Blair said, "Thank you." 

"Chief, you don't even know what it is yet." 

"Doesn't matter," he murmured. "It's from you." 

Jim shrugged and nodded, a bit embarrassed. He unsuccessfully tried to hide his pleasure at Blair's words. 

"Jim, you are as transparent as a pane of glass. I can see right through you, you big lug." 

"Am not." Jim pouted. 

Blair laughed deeply. "Oh, yeah, right." He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the gift. With a final tug, the packet unrolled and revealed its contents. 

A fine piece of butter-soft tan leather had been fashioned into a book cover. The name 'Blair Sandburg' was tooled into the corner of the front cover. Blair ran a shaky finger over the letters. His eyes drank in the finely engraved jungle scene that decorated the rest of the front cover. From among the delicate tooling of plants, vines, trees and flowers, two sets of eyes peered out. Blair knew instantly that they were the eyes of their animal spirits: the wolf and the panther. 

On the back of the book cover was a simple design: the all-seeing eye that they'd both seen in their dreams. Along the top and bottom of the book cover, about six inches in on each side, very small holes had been punched. A light string of matching leather was sewn into the holes, fashioning a pocket so that the cover of Blair's book could be tucked in and protected when closed. 

"Jim," Blair whispered, "it's beautiful." He raised his wet eyes to Jim's. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The most wonderful gift anybody's ever given me. You made it, didn't you?" 

Jim blushed, enormously pleased. "Yes. It's for your book, Chief," he added unnecessarily. 

"Yes, I know. Thank you." Blair's voice cracked. He clutched the book cover to his chest and threw his free arm around Jim's neck. Dragging the Sentinel's face to his, he kissed him hard and long. 

Finally parting, Jim smiled. Running his fingers down Blair's face, he whispered, "I love you." 

Blair's throat closed. He nodded. "I -- I love you, Jim." 

They kissed tenderly. 

Jim hugged Blair tightly. "I should go. I hear somebody down the hall." 

"Okay. Soon?" 

"Yes. Soon. We'll be together. I swear it." 

"You're here. I'm here. That's enough -- for now. But one of these days..." 

Jim clamped his lips over Blair's and kissed him fiercely. "Yes," he whispered before letting himself out quietly. 

* * *

It was a cold afternoon in the midst of a raging storm when Jim Ellison parked in his usual spot at Conover. He was taking an extra shift from 4 p.m. until midnight, and then he would work his usual shift from midnight to 9. With the bad weather, he figured he might even work in a third shift in the morning. This kind of weather guaranteed that some of his co-workers wouldn't be able to make it in time for their tours. 

Jim pulled his rain slicker tight around his body, tossed the hood over his head, and opened the door. The sound of the wind was deafening to his ears, making him unconsciously turn down his hearing. A double crack of thunder followed by a brilliant string of lightning flashes had Jim glad he had muted his senses. He ducked his head and raced for the side door closest to the employee parking lot. He ran past the loading dock, skirted a truck parked against the bay doors, and swiped his key card quickly. The door unlocked and he pulled it open, slipping in. He leaned back against the door for a moment, wiping the rainwater from his eyes. 

It took a few minutes for Jim to get his bearings. He heard the sound of the truck pulling away from the dock. He pulled off his jacket and headed toward the time clock to punch in. He had taken just a few steps when he stopped, puzzled. Everything was dead quiet. The power wasn't off. He could hear the gentle hum of the overhead florescent lights. The furnace kicked on, sending a blast of warm air out of the nearest vent. The storm raged on. Jim realized that the sounds of human activity were absent. He concentrated. No voices reached his ears. The entire building was deathly quiet. 

Instantly on alert, Jim headed toward the nearest ward. He moved stealthily. Peering through the glass door separating the first floor ward from the outside entrance, he focused and froze. He held his breath. Fumbling with his key card, Jim slid it quickly through the lock. He pulled open the door quietly and stood staring. The hallway was littered with bodies. Orderlies. Patients. A few visitors. A nurse and two doctors. 

Jim raced toward the nearest body. He fell to his knees and pressed shaking fingers against the neck. He was rewarded with the slow but steady pulse under his skin. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jim carefully scanned the hallway with his hearing. The steady heartbeats of the people reached his sensitive ears. He rose, puzzled for a brief moment. They were all asleep, he realized. His nose started to tingle and his eyes began to itch. He clamped a hand over his mouth. Airborne anesthesia. Grabbing a towel from a housekeeper's cart, he held it over his nose and mouth. His mind raced. But why? Immediately, Jim knew. Alex Barnes. 

Not missing a beat, Jim raced toward the stairs and took the steps up to the second floor two at a time. He focused intently, searching for the familiar heartbeat that calmed his body and had come to mean so much to him in the past few months. He filtered out the other dozens of bodies, searching frantically. When he burst through the door, he didn't bother checking Blair's room. By then he already knew that Blair was gone. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Jim muttered. "The truck!" Jim said to himself, remembering the panel truck that had been parked in the hospital's loading dock. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he placed an emergency call to the police while he clattered back down the steps. With the authorities alerted of the situation, Jim raced toward the exit, intent on getting to his truck. Pushing on the locked door, he cursed and pounded his fist against the wire-reinforced glass. Breathing heavily, he stopped and took a breath. 

"Damn it, Ellison! Calm down. Open the fucking door." Retrieving his key card, he unlocked the door and tore out into the raging storm. Wiping the rain from his face, he started the truck and peeled out. At the end of the hospital's long driveway, he was forced to stop again to open the huge cast-iron gate that kept patients in and the rest of the world out. It seemed to take forever for the gate to open enough for Jim to drive his truck through. 

At the first stop sign he stopped, head swiveling first to the left and then to the right. Straight ahead the road dead-ended in a subdivision of middle income houses and a golf course. Jim dismissed that direction immediately. To the right, the road led into the city of Cascade and eventually, to the airport. To the left was the more industrial section, littered with large warehouses and factories, and the bay that lead to the ocean. 

The airport was a distinct possibility except for the fact that all planes were grounded that day because of the bad weather. From what Jim had learned about Alex Barnes, she was anything but dumb. She would know that escape by means of air travel was impossible, even for a private plane or helicopter. 

Jim turned left. He searched his memory for the truck, forcing himself to recall details. He remembered a tan door. Then he saw the side of the panel truck. Darker brown letters danced across the panel. Gino's Fresh Vegetables. Flooring the gas pedal, Jim drove quickly. He pushed the vehicle to its limits, hydroplaning several times across puddles. Fishtailing, he expertly brought the truck under control each time, not slowing down. He knew he was racing time. He had to find Alex before she hurt Blair again. 

Once in the industrial park, Jim killed the lights and cruised the streets slowly. While he looked intently for anything that would alert him to Blair's whereabouts, he berated himself severely. 

"This is all your fault, Ellison. You were supposed to protect him. He's too fragile right now to withstand another onslaught by that bitch!" Jim rubbed his forehead. "Think! There has got to be a way to track them!" Jim stopped the truck and rolled down the window. Rain instantly drenched him. Darkness had fallen and the pelting rain limited his vision. He ignored the cold water. _What, Ellison? Use what? Smell? Hearing? Sight?_ Jim climbed from the truck and stood in the downpour. He focused intently, opening his sense of hearing as wide as possible. Hundreds of noises reached his ears. Voices. Heartbeats. Gas hissing in pipes. Water dripping from roofs. A cat searching for mice. 

Jim started walking. He relied on his sixth sense to guide his feet while he focused his hearing. He knew from his reading of Burton's book and Blair's papers that he was risking a zone-out, but he didn't care. He could do this. He could remain in control. Digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he used the pain to keep a corner of his mind aware of his surroundings while he intently listened for something, anything that would give him a clue as to Blair's or Alex's whereabouts. 

Ten blocks later, wet to the skin, Jim stopped and sighed. Unsuccessful so far, he took just a moment to reset his senses. Breathing in deeply, Jim suddenly froze. A familiar scent faintly touched his nasal passages. He breathed in again, turning in a full circle. He smelled licorice. 

Immediately, Jim focused. He followed the scent past several abandoned warehouses. Skirting around the corner of a brick wall, he stopped. The tan panel truck sat parked on the gravel in front of a broken-down pier. Tied to the end of the dock was a 36' Beneteau yacht. She looked ready to sail but for the raging storm. Jim thanked the weather gods for the bad conditions while he did a quick scan of the boat. It took barely a minute for him to hear three heartbeats and to identify Blair's slow thump-thump. Jim realized that he must have been knocked out along with the other people at Conover. Satisfied for now that his friend was alive, he carefully melted back around the corner. 

Leaning against the protection of the brick wall, Jim pulled his cell and called Simon Banks. 

"It's a go, Simon." 

"Now?" 

"Yeah. I'm at a dock off Esmeralda Point. Barnes and Blank are here. She's got Sandburg. They're going to set sail on a ship as soon as this weather clears." 

"The weatherman calls for clearing by midnight. It's past 7 now. We don't have much time. I'll send in the troops." 

"Simon, no. This is not the time for the cavalry to come charging in. I want to handle this myself." 

"You are not a cop! I want you to stand down!" 

"No, sir. No can do. Sandburg is my responsibility. I'm going to get him out." 

"Ellison! At least wait for backup!" 

"Sir, I'm not waiting for anything. When Blair refuses to cooperate, she'll kill him. She could kill him before help arrives." He disconnected and pocketed the phone. 

Creeping back along the wall, he realized that the woman's Sentinel senses could announce his presence before he had a chance to formulate a plan and rescue Blair. He once again focused on the people on the boat, listening to the voices that reached his ears. 

"...Blair, sweetie? Come on, wake up for me. That's a good baby. Open those pretty blue eyes --Hello, my love. How are you feeling? Blair? Don't pull away. Talk to me, precious -- I've missed you -- It hasn't been the same without you -- Please -- No! -- Stop that!" Jim heard the sounds of scuffling and Alex shouting, "Stop it!" More scuffling followed by heavy breathing from Alex and from Blair. 

Jim carefully crept along the broken pier and over the railing of the boat. He hunched over and scuttled along the deck until he slid along the raised wall of the cabin. On hands and knees, he crawled until he came to a porthole. Peering into the first cabin, he saw Bennie lying on a cot. He was curled up, moaning softly. Along with the residual smell of licorice, the sour smell of vomit reached his nose. The man was probably seasick from a combination of the rocking and pitching of the small vessel and aftereffects of the sleeping gas. Moving along, Jim looked into the second porthole. He pulled back quickly before looking again. He could see Alex from the back and she was on her knees, straddling a body -- Blair's body. He was face down, struggling silently and desperately against the ropes that she had placed around his hands. 

Jim clenched his fists when Alex put a knee on Blair's back, turned and grabbed one of his ankles. With another piece of rope, she tried to tie the rope around his foot. Blair twisted his body quickly and kicked out viciously, catching Alex hard on the shoulder. She fell back with an "oomph". He scrambled awkwardly to his feet and headed toward the door. Not stopping, he rammed into the thin door, breaking it. The momentum sent him crashing into the opposite wall. Alex regained her feet just as Blair regained his. He raced up the small set of steps and out of the hatch toward the bow of the boat. Alex followed. Blair stopped and turned. 

"Don't touch me!" Blair screamed over the wind. "Come any closer, and I'll jump!" Blair threw a foot over the railing and straddled it, standing dangerously close to the edge of the boat. 

Alex skidded to a stop. "Blair, don't be stupid!" 

"I'd rather be dead than have you touch me! You're not worthy of your gifts. I hate you!" Blair shouted, his face wet with rain and blotchy with rage. 

Jim ran toward the duo at the front of the ship. Blair and Alex were so intently focused neither heard or saw Jim's approach. Alex took a step toward Blair, making him back up another step where he slipped on a coiled rope that lay on the deck floor. With his hands tied, he couldn't regain his balance and fell backwards over the side. 

"No!" Jim screamed. 

Alex heard the shout and turned, eyes wide. The rain obscured her vision so she wiped the water from her eyes just as Jim reached her. He never faltered. He backhanded her hard across the face and she slumped to the deck in a heap. He leapt over her body and raced to the side of the boat. 

"Blair!" Jim screamed. At first, his eyes frantically searched the water. Then he saw what had happened. The rope had coiled itself around one of Blair's ankles and he hung upside-down by his foot. The rope was long enough that his body was underwater from his waist to his head. Jim grabbed the rope and pulled, praying that the tangled line wouldn't slip. Hand over hand, he hauled while his muscles bulged and strained. Biting his lip until the blood ran, Jim pulled. Finally he was able to wrap his hands around Blair's foot and he hauled the man onto the deck. Wiping the wet strands of hair from Blair's face, Jim focused. For a panicked second, Jim couldn't hear his heart beating. 

"No! This is not happening!" Jim cried. He lay Blair out on the deck, pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. After only a breath or two, Blair started coughing and spit up a stomachful of briny water. Jim gathered Blair into his arms and held him close. "God, Chief! Are you okay?" 

"Jim?" Blair shakily whispered. "Is it really you?" 

"Yeah, buddy. It's really..." Blinding pain exploded across the back of Jim's head. He was knocked sideways and lay still. 

Blair looked up, startled. Alex stood over Jim with a length of pipe in her hand and she advanced on him with a malevolent look on her face. He scrambled backward on his backside, hands still tied by the wet rope. At first, Blair thought she was going to strike him with the pipe. Instead, she shoved it into her pocket. She reached down and grabbed his shirt with both hands, hauling him to his feet. 

"You're mine. Get used to it. Got it?" Blair glared at her and remained silent. Rage coursed through Alex's body. She slapped him hard across the face -- once, twice, three times. Blood ran from his nose and mouth. "Do you understand? Answer me!" When Blair didn't answer, she slapped him again. 

"Fuck you," he finally muttered. 

Screaming, she hit him again and again until he slumped in her grasp. Releasing him, he fell to his knees. Grabbing his hair, she dragged him toward the back of the boat. When she pulled him backwards, he bellowed in pain and desperately tried to gain his footing. Using the last reserves of his strength, Blair found his feet and lurched forward, breaking Alex's hold. His scalp throbbed and his face ached while his eyes started to swell and the blood ran unchecked from his nose and mouth. Turning to face Alex, he frantically tried to see. Blinking through the rain, he saw Alex raise the length of pipe that she had retrieved from her pocket. 

Without thinking of his actions, Blair bent at the waist and launched himself forward, screaming. Alex's blow fell ineffectually on his lower back. His head connected with her stomach and the force sent her over the side of the boat where she crashed onto the wooden pier with a hard thump. 

Blair fell to his knees, head bent, panting harshly. He took a couple of deep breaths. Coughing at the blood running down his throat, he struggled to see. After a few moments, he found his feet and readied himself for the next attack. Blair looked over the side of the boat; he sucked in his breath. Alex lay on the deck with a long shard of the wooden planking sticking out through her stomach. The blood seeped around the stake, mingling with the rainwater. Blair looked into her face and when their eyes met, Blair watched with a cold gaze when her lips moved. 

"Please -- help -- me." Her hands clutched feebly at the foot of wood that jutted from her gut. 

"Go to hell," Blair said softly. 

Alex's eyes glazed over and with a final whoosh of air, she died. Blair stared at her for a long moment before he raised himself to his feet. He raced over to Jim's side. Blood flowed freely from the gash on the back of Jim's head. Blair sat down on the deck and with the moves of a contortionist, he worked his hands from behind his back, over his backside, and to the front. With shaking fingers, he pressed his bound hands against Jim's cold skin. 

"Jim, please -- Jim!" Blair shouted, patting the side of his face. Carefully, he rolled Jim to his back. "Oh, God. Jim!" Blair took a deep breath and regained control of his emotions. He patted Jim's coat pockets and found the cell phone. Hitting 911, he called for help even as the sounds of sirens echoed in the distance. 

Soon, the boat was swarming with police, EMTs and a very large man who identified himself to Blair as Captain Simon Banks. Blair watched silently while the police hauled Bennie Jones' sorry ass out to a police cruiser. They'd found the man huddled in a closet where he had hidden himself after hearing all the commotion occurring on the deck. Blair managed to keep an eye on Jim until they were separated when the emergency personnel took each man to an ambulance for assessment. His face throbbed mercilessly but that pain was nothing compared to how his heart ached to be near Jim. Blair sighed and closed his eyes. 

* * *

It was warm and dry in the hospital emergency room. Blair Sandburg lay propped up on a gurney under several warm blankets with his hands wrapped around a cup of hot, sweetened tea. His eyes were black and blue. His lips were swollen from Alex's hard blows and his nose was packed with cotton to staunch the bleeding. Blair took small sips, avoiding the cuts made by his teeth on the inside of his lip, and reveled in the warmth of the drink. 

Jim Ellison sat in a chair at the foot of Blair's gurney with his head wrapped in gauze. Clean bandages covered the ten stitches that were needed to close the injury. He took small sips from a large paper cup of orange juice. 

Blair looked over the rim of his cup. "Just take half of the pain pill, Jim. We don't know your reactions to medications now that your senses are in full alert." 

"Oh, right. Good thinking, Chief." Jim broke the blue pill in half and tossed it back with a few sips of juice. 

Simon Banks poked his head through the doorway. "Okay, you two. Everything's set. Jim, you're released. Mr. Sandburg, somebody from the hospital is here to take you back." 

Jim rose. "Now wait a minute!" 

Simon stood tall. "Jim, you know he has to go back! He's their patient and he goes back to the hospital. That is final." 

"It's okay," Blair said quietly. 

"No, it's not!" Jim shouted, wincing at the pain that crashed through his head. 

"Calm down, Jim. You're only causing yourself pain," Blair sighed. "And me, too." 

"What?" Jim said breathlessly. 

"It hurts to see you so upset, Jim. Please?" Blair closed his eyes. 

Jim moved quickly to Blair's side. "I'm sorry," he said softly, rubbing a hand on Blair's leg. "I can't do this," he muttered. "I can't protect you like this!" 

Blood-shot eyes met clear blue. "One of these days, we'll be together. I promise." 

"You can't make that kind of promise, Sandburg." 

Blair smiled before grimacing. "Try me, Ellison," he growled, low and soft. "Just try me." 

"Jim? Let's go." Simon walked out of the room. 

"Chief, I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Jim, you need a few days off to recuperate." 

"Chief, I'll see you tomorrow." 

Blair laughed softly. "Okay. Okay. I'll see you." 

"Good night." 

"Bye, Jim." 

"No, Sandburg. No good-byes." 

"Oh, okay, man. Later." A lopsided smile accompanied the words. 

Jim turned and left. "Love you," he murmured, sure he was out of range for Blair to hear. 

"Love you, too." 

* * *

"Dr. Anderson?" 

"Yes, Jim. Come in." 

"Thank you, sir. I've come to turn in my resignation." 

"Really? Well, that isn't necessary. I appreciate everything you did. I have no intention of firing you and I'd like you to stay with us." 

"Sir, thank you, but I've decided to rejoin Cascade PD. I'll be starting the end of next week." 

"Oh? Well, good for you. I think that's a wise decision." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Your actions were commendable. I'd like to extend my deepest gratitude and the gratitude of the patients and staff. You are a hero. If you hadn't acted as quickly as you did yesterday, there could have been serious consequences. You saved Mr. Sandburg's life, as well as several patients here who had serious respiratory complications. Your quick thinking on alerting the authorities saved even more lives. We're all indebted to you." 

Jim blushed. "Thank you, sir." 

Dr. Anderson smiled. "The Mayor called me. He's recommending the committee award you the annual Citizen's Award for Bravery." 

"That's not necessary." 

"It is necessary," the doctor insisted. "It will be good for the hospital and for your new career." 

"Yes, sir. I appreciate that." 

"I'll be sorry to see you go. We're fully staffed so if you want to make this resignation effective immediately, I don't have a problem with that. It will give you a few days to rest and get ready for the new job." 

"Thank you, sir. That would be good. I do have a few things to do." 

"You're welcome. Best of luck." 

"Thank you. Doctor, might I see Blair before I go?" 

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'd say yes, but Mr. Sandburg's mother came by this morning. He's gone." 

"What? That quickly?" 

"She is his legal guardian and she had voluntarily committed him to Conover. She had the right to move him to another facility. I didn't have a choice in the matter." At Jim's stricken look, Dr. Anderson added, "I'm sure he'll be fine. She's a very caring woman." 

Jim's jaw twitched. "Do you know where she took him, sir?" 

"No. She didn't say. She did mention that she would contact me regarding his medical files at a later date. Funny, she didn't ask me to transfer them to another facility." 

"Very strange," Jim muttered unhappily. 

"Hum? What?" 

"Nothing, Doctor. Good day." 

"And a good day to you, Jim." 

* * *

Even with Jim's investigative abilities, he was not able to get in touch with Blair or Naomi Sandburg. He spent three days tracking down the pair before he found that they registered at a private retreat in the Rocky Mountains outside Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Further investigation revealed that the facility had no outside contact once the guests arrived. He tried everything at his disposal but to no avail. Blair was sequestered and he couldn't do a damned thing about it. They didn't even take contact for emergency situations so Blair might as well have been on Venus. 

Jim tried to keep busy. He cleaned the loft. He did every bit of laundry that he possibly could. He painted the spare bedroom. He replaced the old pipes in the laundry room in the basement with new ones. He jogged. He lifted weights. He cooked huge meals that he didn't eat. He watched television and never heard a word that anybody on the small screen said. He was miserable. His senses seemed to be under control so at least he had that small concession. Jim wondered just how long that would last without the anchor to his control. He wanted Blair. He needed Blair. Not just for his senses, but for his heart. Jim finally admitted to himself that he was deeply and passionately in love. Now if only the sky would open up and drop Blair into his arms, his life would be complete. 

With a cold beer in hand and the television tuned into the Jags in the playoffs, Jim slumped in front of the tube. Something caught his attention. He focused. The elevator chugged upward. It passed the second floor and stopped at the third. The door slid open. Jim sat up and set the beer bottle on the corner of the coffee table. 

Familiar footsteps echoed in the hall, followed by smaller, unfamiliar ones. Jim rose and crossed to the door, pulling it open. A much-loved heart beat faster. Jim stepped into the hall. Shining blue eyes met his. 

"Blair?" 

"Jim!" 

Jim took a step forward, throwing out his arms. Blair ran the last two steps and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. Jim hugged the slim body tightly and nuzzled his nose into the clean, silky hair. 

"Blair!" Jim whispered huskily. 

Blair turned his face toward Jim. "Oh, Jim!" 

Lips met in a slow, gentle kiss. Time passed. The kiss deepened. Arms tightened. A throat cleared. 

Jim raised his head and blushed bright red. 

Blair laughed deeply. "Oh, hey, man. I almost forgot!" Grinning, he turned in Jim's strong arms and leaned back onto the firm chest. "Jim Ellison, this is my mom, Naomi Sandburg." 

Jim grinned sheepishly. "Hello, Mrs. Sandburg." He clasped his hands together across Blair's chest and his grin widened when Blair's hands clamped over his. 

Sparkling blue eyes met his. "Naomi, please, Jim. After all, I'm practically your mother-in-law." 

Jim blushed even more. "Naomi, please come in." 

"Tell you what. You and Blair go and get reacquainted. I'll come back in two hours and take you both out to dinner." 

Blair smiled warmly at his mother before he looked back over his shoulder. "Okay with you, Jim?" 

Jim's eyes met Blair's. They exchanged a special smile. 

Naomi laughed. "Make that four hours. We'll have a late dinner." 

Both men laughed. Naomi smiled. "Go!" she cajoled. "Be together. We'll talk later." 

"Thank you, Naomi," Jim said. "Thank you." He swallowed around the thick lump in his throat, reveling at the warm, wonderful body wrapped in his arms. 

"See you later, sweetie." Naomi planted a quick kiss to Blair's cheek. She patted Jim's arm before she left. 

The two men waited until the elevator touched the first floor. Jim finally broke the silence. 

"Chief?" 

"Jim, man, I hope you don't mind me showing up like this." 

Turning Blair around to face him, Jim covered Blair's lips with his, silencing his speech. When they finally parted, Blair murmured, "I'll take that as an 'okay'." 

Jim laughed and kissed Blair again. Finally breathless, Jim said, "Let's go inside." 

Arm in arm, they squeezed through the door. Blair glanced around, searching. "Nice place." His eyes immediately found what he was looking for. His painting, in a beautifully simple wooden frame, hung in a clearly visible place on the living room wall. If he needed any more reassurances that Jim loved him, the positioning of his painting was all that he required. His heart was full of joy and his mind at peace. 

"Welcome home," Jim said warmly. 

Blair looked into Jim's face. "Really?" 

"Of course. If that's what you'd like." 

"I'd love it." 

"This is for keeps, Chief. You know that, don't you?" 

"Oh, yes. That's the only way I'd have it." 

"Good. Good. Well, come in. Make yourself comfortable." Jim pointed. "Bathroom. Guest bedroom." Waving up the steps, Jim said, "Master bedroom." 

Blair's arms circled Jim's waist. "Show me." 

"What?" 

"The master bedroom." 

"Now?" Jim asked breathlessly. 

"I've been waiting for you for thirty years, Jim. Yes, now." 

"Your wish is my command, my little genie." 

Circling Blair's wrist with his hand, Jim tugged lightly. Blair followed, laughing. "You know, Jim, technically, Aladdin was the guy who rubbed the lamp. The genie was the guy who said, 'Your wish is my command'." 

Jim laughed. "It's just semantics, Chief. Besides, I'm going to grant you three wishes." 

Blair chuckled, climbing the stairs and enjoying the sight of Jim's backside wiggling up each step right in front of his eyes. "Ah, Jim, speaking of semantics?" 

At the top of the stairs, Jim grabbed Blair around the waist with strong hands and kissed him again, deeply and noisily. Tongues explored and tasted. Silken lips brushed silken lips. 

"Speaking of semantics...?" Jim picked up on Blair's last thought. 

"Oh, man." Blair tried to regain some composure but his rapidly responding body interfered with his thought processes. "Ah, right. Semantics. Okay. I'm a guy." 

"Good observation, Einstein." 

Blair grinned. "You're a guy," Blair said seductively, rubbing the front of Jim's trousers with the palm of his hand, making Jim lean forward and groan. 

"Yeah. And your point?" 

"Have you done this before?" 

"What?" Jim said, nibbling Blair's ear, making goosebumps run down his arm. "Made love?" 

"Yeah," Blair said shakily. "With a guy." 

"Chief, we'll work it out." Jim's lips trailed down Blair's neck, blazing a path of wet kisses. 

Blair laughed deeply. "Now about those three wishes?" 

* * *

End Cover Me by LilyK: chakbalam@netscape.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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